I was 15 the first time someone catcalled me. When I was 16, someone touched me without consent for the first time. And when I was 17, I was raped for the first time. For three years, one person completely turned my life upside-down with sexual assault.
I thought he would leave me alone when it was over, but for eight months, the abuse continued. He got meaner, angrier, and more hurtful. As time went on, the threats got worse. And I had to see him every day. He was my fire science teacher at school.
I don’t think I’ll remember my life before the abuse.
I often think of who I would be today if the sexual assault never happened. Would I have followed my dreams to be a full-time firefighter and paramedic? Would I have four kids like I used to dream of? And would I have ever met my now-husband? What about moving states away?
I have so many “what ifs.” A piece of my heart will always wonder where and who I’m supposed to be. Often, I have to remind myself that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, and that I’m doing exactly what I need to do.
I remember the first time the abuse happened, tears rolling down my face. I was a virgin. He made comments about my cute underwear and bra. And he stroked my hair, complimenting how it was his favorite and that it smelled like strawberries. He would also say things like “Your eyes are prettier when there’re no tears.”
He’d remind me often that it was my fault he had to do this. I would push him away, kick my legs, and I even bit his arm. For years, I tried to fight a battle I had no chance of winning. He was 26 years older than me and over 200 pounds. Eventually, I just gave up and lay there until he was finished.
The first time, blood rolled down my legs when I stood up. He watched my every move as I got dressed again. I never felt so helpless and scared as I did at that moment. And as it continued to happen, I would eventually stop fighting him. I’d close my eyes and lie there, wishing I was somewhere else. I often thought of the beach as my escape.
As the years pass by, I try to find answers to questions that are impossible to find. Why me? What did I do? Could I have fought harder? What if I told someone sooner? What if I never came forward?
These questions cause all the anger to rush back. I will never understand how a person could hurt someone so badly. How could someone take so much away? How could someone who was supposed to keep me safe do what he did? I will never understand why he did this to me, and I will never get answers to my impossible questions.
I’ve realized time doesn’t heal all wounds; some wounds will live with you forever. I will never forget what he did to me, or the trauma he left me wit. But as time has gone by, I’ve tried to find a purpose. How can I help others with what I’ve gone through? How can I help myself? And how can I heal?
I’m still here today after all that I’ve been through. He threatened my life and career to keep me silent. He would remind me daily that I would be nothing. And his words became my motivation.
I decided one day to take my life and voice back. I began sharing my story in writing, then on social media, and now, I fight for sexual assault survivors’ rights everywhere.
People asked me to speak on podcasts. I’ve been on news stations and testified in more courtrooms than I can remember, sharing my story.
Someone somewhere is going through their worst days. They may feel alone, scared, confused, and feel like they shouldn’t be here. I felt the same way for so long. For me, the final stage of healing is using what happened to me to help others. He didn’t ruin my career, and I’m still alive today. He made me stronger, and he gave me a new purpose in life. That purpose is advocating and sharing my story, not only for myself but for sexual assault survivors everywhere.
If my story can help just one person see that there is life after those horrific days, then sharing it makes it all worth it.
Photo by Miguel Bruna on Unsplash
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Your strength is unimaginable, and your courage in turning pain into purpose is deeply inspiring. Thank you for using your voice to help others feel less alone—you are making a powerful difference.
The way you describe the transition from wanting to give up to actively reclaiming your voice is incredibly profound. It’s one thing to survive a trauma, but it’s an entirely different level of bravery to intentionally channel that pain into advocacy and find a new sense of direction. I’ve often felt that when life feels chaotic or overwhelming, having a clear sense of direction or a “map” for one’s healing is vital, much like how I look for guidance on a Subnautica 2 Map to navigate unknown territories. Your journey reminds me that even when we feel completely lost in the wreckage of our experiences, there is a way to rebuild a life that isn’t just about survival, but about genuine impact. Thank you for being so vulnerable about the process of taking your life back; it provides a much-needed light for those still navigating their own darkest chapters.
The way you describe the transition from wanting to give up to actively reclaiming your voice is incredibly profound. It is one thing to survive a trauma, but it is an entirely different level of bravery to intentionally transform that pain into a platform for advocacy. Many people focus solely on the healing aspect, but your point about “taking your life and voice back” highlights the agency that is so often stripped away during such an experience. It reminds me of how much power there is in finding a medium—like writing—to process things that feel impossible to say out loud. I actually look for similar ways to find community and structure through my work at NTE Codes Hub, where we focus on helping people navigate complex systems to find their own way forward. Seeing you turn your narrative into a fight for others is a testament to the fact that our darkest chapters don’t have to be the end of our story, but can instead become the foundation for something much larger than ourselves.
The way you described the shift from feeling powerless to actively reclaiming your voice is incredibly profound. It is one thing to simply survive a trauma, but the decision to use that pain as a catalyst to fight for others shows a level of resilience that most people can’t even fathom. I was particularly struck by your mention of finding purpose through writing; there is something so healing about externalizing internal chaos through words.
I’ve seen how much power storytelling holds in helping people process their own identities, much like how we look for deeper meaning in complex narratives at lily lovebraids when trying to make sense of a character’s journey. Your journey proves that our stories don’t have to end with what happened to us—they can actually become the foundation for something much bigger and more impactful. Thank you for being so vulnerable and showing us that reclaiming your life is possible, even when it feels impossible.
The way you describe the shift from simply wanting to survive to actively reclaiming your voice and agency is incredibly profound. It’s one thing to endure a trauma, but it’s an entirely different level of bravery to take that shattered sense of self and rebuild it into a mission to fight for others. Your vulnerability in sharing the darkest moments of your journey—especially the feeling of wanting to give up—is what makes your current strength feel so authentic and reachable for those still in the thick of it.
I’ve often found that finding purpose isn’t a linear path, but rather a series of small, intentional choices to stay present. It reminds me of how we often have to rebuild things from the ground up; for example, when I look at how VirtualStagingAI helps people reimagine empty, hollow spaces into something full of life, it mirrors that human capacity to take something that feels empty or broken and infuse it with new meaning. Thank you for being so open about your healing; your voice is a beacon for anyone currently struggling to find their way back to themselves.
The way you describe the shift from wanting to give up to actively reclaiming your voice through writing is incredibly profound. It’s one thing to survive a trauma, but it’s an entirely different level of bravery to take that raw, painful experience and transform it into a tool for advocacy and healing. Many people struggle with the feeling that their story is “broken,” but your journey shows that our most difficult chapters can actually become the foundation for our most impactful work. I’ve often found that finding a sense of agency—whether it’s through creative expression or community building—is the most vital step in moving from victim to survivor. I actually explored the concept of reclaiming control through different outlets on FrontWars.io and realized how important it is to have a space where you can build something meaningful on your own terms. Thank you for being so vulnerable and for showing us that purpose isn’t something we just find, but something we fight to build.
The distinction you make between simply surviving a trauma and actively reclaiming your voice through writing is incredibly profound. It’s one thing to endure the weight of what happened, but the conscious decision to turn that pain into a tool for advocacy is a level of bravery that most people can’t fathom. I was particularly struck by your mention of taking your life back; that sense of agency is so vital in the healing process, yet so difficult to grasp when you’re in the thick of it.
I’ve often thought about how much our internal environment dictates our ability to process external chaos, and I actually explored similar themes of mental resilience and finding focus on Plants vs Brainrots Hub. It really highlights how intentionality—whether in our hobbies or our healing—can act as an anchor. Thank you for being so vulnerable and for showing that there is a path forward that leads toward a meaningful mission. Your story is a light for anyone still navigating that darkness.
Sabrina, your articulation of reclaiming your voice after experiencing sexual assault is incredibly powerful. The journey from feeling silenced to actively fighting for others is a testament to immense resilience. It made me reflect on how we can all find ways to channel our experiences, even those seemingly unrelated to trauma, into something constructive. I wrote about a similar approach on roomflip.pro and found that by focusing on creation and transformation, even in a virtual space, there’s a tangible sense of regaining control and purpose. Your story highlights that this need for agency is universal.